


Early Inheritance

by Embarassedbutkinky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brotherly Love, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Ghost Fred Weasley, Hogwarts, Humor, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23653261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Embarassedbutkinky/pseuds/Embarassedbutkinky
Summary: George has a very strange dream one night years after the Battle of Hogwarts. The Marauders have a mission for him, and they knew exactly who to send to convey the message. Just a short, feel-good one shot.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Early Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

> So, first time I'm posting a non-DBZ fanfic on this account. i probably wont make a habit of it, I just got his plot bunny stuck in my head and it wouldn't go away. Actually this is my first HP fanfic entirely.
> 
> Thanks all,
> 
> EBK

George had been staying later and later at work the past month.

It wasn't like anything had gone sour between him and Angelina; most days she worked right alongside him at the shop, or at least down below in his workroom where he engineered new products. Angie had brought something to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes that neither George or his late twin could have; products girls actually wanted. They'd made some attempts with love potions and the like, but Angie was able to set him straight about the real mind of a teenage girl at Hogwarts. Now he wasn't sure how they'd ever been successful without her.

No, George saw his wife plenty, but she still went home before he did. She was even kind enough to pretend she didn't know why he was working so hard right now, but he knew damn well she'd worked it out. Sometimes he really thought she was too good for him.

It was nearly eight o'clock when he looked up from his current under-construction invention: The Unstealable Quill. It would imprint on a single Wizard's hand, and if someone else used it for more than five minutes their entire arm would start to blow up like a balloon, and start whistling with steam after ten. He could already smell the ink on the exasperated letter McGonagall would send him when too many thieving students ended up in the hospital wing next year.

He packed up his work, remembering almost too late that his mother had asked him to swing by sometime this evening. The shop has been locked up for hours now, so it was only a moment before he found himself apparating directly into the kitchen of the Burrow.

Molly Weasley was precariously holding a grandchild with one hand and a plate of cookies with the other, and in her surprise she nearly dropped both of them. She muttered in annoyance, setting down the sweets and readjusting the small red-haired girl on her hip.

"Hi, Uncle George," Lily laughed.

"Hi, Squirt."

"...told you a thousand times to apparate  _ outside  _ and come in the door," Molly continued, still stopping to hug him briefly with her free arm before smacking his shoulder.

George plopped into a seat at the dining room table and ruffled the already unruly hair of the little boy filling out worksheets. "Homework, Albus?"

"Yeah, the boring muggle kind," Albus sighed. "While James gets to learn about all sorts of cool things."

"You've only got a couple years left," George reminded him as Molly fussed around some boxes stacked against the front door. 

"I know," Albus nodded. "At least he's got Roxanne to keep him company. Do you miss her?"

George winced. Always leave it to a child to hit right on your vulnerable spot. James Potter the Second and George's daughter Roxanne had been born exactly eleven years prior, so both of them had ridden off on the train to Hogwarts one month ago. For George it was his second child to be enrolled, with his son Fred being already in his third year. That left his house echoingly empty, without the patter of chaotic feet tearing up and down the halls. He'd always wanted a big family like his parents, but Angelina's second pregnancy had been a risky one. He'd never risk her health for another one, but he'd been dreading the silence of the empty house since the moment Roxanne was born.

"Where's your mum and dad?" George asked his nephew instead, trying to dodge the question.

"It's their anniversary," Molly called instead, coming back to the table with one of the boxes. "I insisted they take the night to themselves and give me some much needed time with my grandchildren, whom I don't see nearly enough--"

"Mum, I don't think I've seen you once in the last ten years without at least one child in your arms."

"Nonsense," she said, waving him off and opening the box. She suddenly grew quieter, a bit of her ever present business ebbing away, and George knew immediately who she was thinking of.

"We were… doing a bit of spring cleaning," she explained. "Our attic is far too full of old trinkets and toys. I made everyone a box to store in their own homes, if they want to keep it. I wasn't sure which things were… you, you had very similar handwriting, and--"

"Thanks, Mum," George said, mercifully cutting her off before she had to say his name. "I'll find somewhere to keep it all."

The moment passed, and the unshakeable Molly Weasley was bustling about again, showing him the art projects Lily had made both her and Ginny for mother's day a few months before and talking faster than before, he thought.

It was past nine when he escaped her to apparate home. Angie had gone off to bed, but left a few lights on for him. There was a note on the table, folded, with his name on it.

_ I figure your mother got talking and you couldn't slip away. I left you some dinner on the table to be warmed. Come to bed soon, I sleep heavier when you're next to me. _

_ They won't be gone forever. _

_ -A _

He smiled, uncovering the roast she'd left for him and reheating it with a flick of his wand. Definitely too good for him.

George sat at the table to eat, and always in the corner of his vision sat the box his mother had sent with him, just behind the table leg where he'd left it. His mind drifted back to his mother's reluctance to say his name. Many people acted as though mentioning the other twin's name would cause George some great pain that no one should have to endure, but he didn't feel that way. He'd attempted to prove it by naming his son after his brother in an attempt to show others he could handle the word. Because the truth was that hearing Fred's name did not upset him. That would require him to need to be  _ reminded _ of the loss, but that was impossible.

It was  _ always _ on his mind.

Every day, in some situation or another, George missed him. It was impossible not to; he worked in a shop he'd started with Fred, married a woman who had once dated Fred, and he couldn't look in the mirror without  _ seeing _ Fred. It wasn't always a sad occasion. After all, he reasoned that if the situation had been reversed he'd be very upset if Fred spent his life in mourning. So, for him, he tried very hard to focus only on the good memories. So he wasn't afraid of a damn box, he decided. 

He set his dinner aside and pulled the box up onto the table, opening it before he could change his mind. A smile crept across his face before he could stop it, and he reached in to pull out the old notebooks at the top of the pile. He saw immediately why his mother hadn't been able to tell which of theirs this was; they'd both written all over it. These notebooks were the very beginnings of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

He spent a few minutes flipping through them, remembering old inventions they'd given up on and the prototypes of ones he still sold today. The rest of the box were filled with their old schoolbooks, a few winter hats they'd passed back and forth between them, and a puzzle toy George had played with a few times in the Gryffindor common room before losing. He folded the box back up, taking a bit of satisfaction from the fact that he hadn't let himself be afraid of an old pile of junk.

George tried to be silent as he slipped into bed next to Angelina, but she woke up anyway. She didn't say anything, she just rolled to him and laid her head against his arm as he settled in next to her. He kissed the top of her dark hair, eyes growing heavy. They tried to be up by five thirty every weekday to have the shop open by seven, so he was tired enough to fall asleep almost immediately. The world was quiet. 

_ He was dreaming, and he knew it, which was odd. George was not a very vivid dreamer, as a rule, and when he did remember his dreams they weren't very realistic. Tonight, aware of what was happening, he found himself sitting in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.  _

_ He sat at the Gryffindor table, naturally, with a huge dinner feast laid out before him. Oddly, though, he was entirely alone. The long empty table stretched out on either side of him, the enchanted ceiling calm and quiet far above. He shrugged, piling some of the food onto the plate in front of him. He wondered if he wandered out of the hall if he could explore the castle for nostalgia's sake. He caught sight of his own reflection in the silver spoon he picked up and chuckled. He was in his old uniform, but he still looked like the middle aged man he was. _

_ The door pushed open, and a single other student approached the other side of the Gryffindor table. George looked up and smiled, unsurprised to see him. He had dreams of him often, when he remembered them. _

_ "Hey, Fred," George called, before he reached him. "Come eat some cake, and we'll go see if I can go explore our old common room. We'll see how strong my memory is." _

_ Fred didn't answer. He came and sat down across the table, smiling warmly at his brother. George ate casually, slowly getting nervous that Fred hadn't spoken yet. Usually Dream-Fred would strike up one of their old conversations and he'd play along and let it run through its major points.  _

_ Finally, his behavior was weird enough that George put his spoon down, frowning at his twin. "Something wrong, Fred?" _

_ Fred smiled wider. "You look like Dad, George. There's one upside of dying young, I avoided that. Do people ever call you Arthur accidentally?" _

_ George frowned. Dream-Fred had never talked about his death. Not ever. He hid his trepidation, pointing at the missing ear on the side of his head. "Nah. This is hard to miss." _

_ Fred chuckled. _

_ George sipped at his pumpkin juice, amazed at how real it tasted. "I'm having a really weird dream tonight, Fred." _

_ "I know," Fred reached out and caught George's arm with his hand. It felt so real that it actually startled him. "Look at me, George." _

_ He did, and then he saw what was really wrong with the scene in front of him. Fred was young, a teenager, looking much more at home in his Hogwarts robes than George did. That was strange. Whenever he dreamed about Fred he pictured him as his perfect mirror image. When he dreamt he looked middle aged, Fred looked middle aged. When he dreamt he looked five, Fred looked five. This was the first time he'd ever imagined them not entirely identical. _

_ "You are dreaming, George," Fred said, "but I'm not a part of your dream. It's me. It's really me." _

_ George stared at him. "I don't like this," he said finally. "I want to wake up." _

_ Fred's smile faded a bit. "I guess I understand that. You have no reason to believe me. You must think I'm a bit of your brain lying to you. But look around George, I know this isn't a normal dream for you." _

_ "I was looking at a box of our old stuff before I went to bed," George said, shaking his head. "I must have been more upset than I thought." _

_ "Yeah, before you went to bed with 'Angelina'," Fred teased him, pushing his shoulder teasingly. "What, she was so hung up on me after we broke up that she had to find a guy that looked just like me?" He straightened his robe. "I don't blame her, I'm incredibly sexy." _

_ George laughed, and it hurt instantly. He slammed his fist on the table, gritting his teeth. He couldn't let himself get lost in this dream. He couldn't enjoy Fred's company like it was real, because it would hurt too much in the morning. _

_ Fred put a hand on his, and he didn't pull away. "I swear, George, it's me. If you don't believe me, just pretend. Just think about what you'd want to say to me now." _

_ George shook his head, trying to wake up. _

_ "I'm not going to let you wake up until I'm good and ready," Fred informed him, piling some food onto his own plate. "This was really hard to pull off, you know." _

_ "I'm supposed to believe you've always had the ability to visit me and you just, what, chose not to? Bullshit." _

_ Fred sighed. "It's complicated in ways you won't understand until after you die. There's rules, and some things are difficult… even now I'm only able to pull it off because we're so similar. It always felt like we had one mind between us, maybe there was more truth to that than we thought." _

_ "Prove it. Prove you're not just a dream." _

_ "I can't. Not in here. I can't tell you something only I would know, because you'd already know it, so you'd still think you were imagining me. What I can do is tell you some stuff you don't know yet, and you'll have to confirm them when you're awake." _

_ What if? The two words bounced around George's mind, taunting him. What if this was the moment he'd wished for since The Battle of Hogwarts and he wasted it doubting? _

_ "If you were Fred," he said suddenly, making his twin pause with his fork in the air, "if it was really you…" _

_ "I'm listening." _

_ "I'd tell you I miss you. Every goddamn day. That I'm sorry, and sometimes I wish we went together. I'd tell you I named my son Fred--" _

_ "I know," Fred said immediately with a small smile. "Third year now, isn't he?" _

_ George's brow furrowed. _

_ "We're allowed to watch, George. I know about Fred, and Roxanne too. And the rest of our absolute gaggle of nieces and nephews. Good God can our family multiply." _

_ George smiled. "Who's 'we'?" _

_ Fred's smile turned devilish. "I can't tell you too much about the afterlife, like I said, there's rules. But shortly after I arrived where I am, this guy came up to me. I panicked at first, because I thought Harry had died. His name is James, we call him Prongs sometimes." _

_ "Prongs? As if Messrs Moony, Wormtails, Padfoot and Prongs?" _

_ "Exactly. Harry's dad and his friends made the fucking Marauder's map, and the little shit never mentioned it." _

_ "What the hell?" _

_ "I know. Wait until you find out who Moony is. Don't ask, I want to see your face when you see him some day. So James comes up to me, shakes my hand, and says he's a big fan of our work. Our exit from Hogwarts specifically, he says, pure genius. He says an opening has arisen in the Marauders and they think I'd be a perfect fit. They've shown me the ropes. We hang out, watch our families, torment Lily, we keep busy." His face turned serious. "But we saw something. We saw something so wrong that we agreed I'd try as hard as I could to get a message to you." _

_ George raised an eyebrow. "What's happened?" _

_ "So, you know James's eldest grandson just started on at Hogwarts, right?" _

_ "Right, with Roxie." _

_ "Well, a few nights into the term, he decided to sneak out of bed and lay our lovely Invisible Firecrackers outside of the potions classroom to cause some fun in the morning." _

_ George put a hand over his heart. "Our nephew. I'm so proud." _

_ "So was James," Fred smirked. "You should have heard him and Sirius taking bets as to how long it took them to pin it on him. But James stopped laughing when he saw what his son was doing." _

_ "Harry? What did he do?" _

_ "He was at home, sitting in bed, and opened the Marauder's Map to check on his son. He saw James the Second out of bed and on the opposite side of the castle. Then he told Ginny. Our sister sent her son a howler the very next morning, telling him that if he snuck out again he'd lose Quidditch privileges until his fourth year at least." Fred finished with a dramatic flourish. _

_ "And?" _

_ "And?!" Fred balked. "Do you know what that means? It means the Marauder's Map was used to enforce a rule. That was never it's intention. James was horrified, he said Harry was grounded, but that's pretty hard to do from the afterlife. So instead we've decided Harry has lost his map privileges." _

_ "That's not why we gave it to him in the first place," George agreed, rubbing his chin. _

_ "Exactly! We can't let this stand. I was saving this meeting for something important, and I think this qualifies. You've got to help us, you're our only official member who's still alive--" _

_ "I am?" _

_ "Well they weren't going to take only one twin," Fred rolled his eyes. "We're still a package deal. We need your help getting the map from Harry's hands to his son's." _

_ George chuckled. "A dire situation. Alright, I'll do it." _

_ Fred glanced up. "Shit. You had to get to bed late last night, didn't you? We don't have a lot of time left." _

_ George frowned. "It's only been a few minutes." _

_ "Dreams operate on weird laws. Trust me, you're going to wake up soon. Alright, rapid fire. I love you George, and I miss you too. I never wish you'd come with me, but you already know that. You have plenty of time to get old and keep our legacy going, and after you're done we'll be together again. Also, in the list of ways to die, mine was fucking cool. You'll probably die of cholesterol or something, you boring old man." _

_ George's face was wet. He nodded. "You're probably right, Glory Hog." _

_ "Don't worry about Mom and Dad, they both have quite a few years left. Like I said, I'm watching, love the Unstealable Quill idea, by the way. If you wake up in the morning and don't believe I was real, check on what happened with James the Second. You don't know about him sneaking out yet, so if you learned about it here you can be sure it was real--" _

_ George cut him off. He stepped right over the table onto the other side and pulled Fred to his feet, pulling him into a tight hug. Fred hugged him back, pretending not to hear George sob. _

_ "It was hell," George choked out. "Those first few years, Fred, it was hell--" _

_ "I know," Fred said. "I saw. I think I was lucky one between us." _

_ "Will you ever be able to visit me ag--" _

_ \------------------- _

George woke with a jolt as his alarm sounded. Fred's warm body was replaced by Angelina's, and he was soberingly, sadly, back in his bed. George sat up, hands tangling in his hair as he tried to catch his breath. Angelina frowned, turning off the tinkling bell of their wind up clock and placing a hand on his back.

"Are you okay?"

George shook his head. 

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"No," George said, rubbing his face. "I… I don't know."

Angelina blinked, gently pulling him down so she could hold him against her. This was not how she was used to seeing her husband; his ever-present good mood was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't seen him so shaken in years.

George took control of himself, sitting up and pulling his shirt from the day before off the ground to slip it back on. "Angie, do you think you could run the store without me today?"

Her eyes went wider. He'd never asked that before. "Sure, Love. Is something wrong?"

He shook his head, managing to give her a small smile. "No. I've just been working too hard, I think. I need a day off."

\---------------------

Ginny Potter was bustling around her home, getting dressed and ready for her day, about to head off to  _ The Daily Prophet _ headquarters. Harry walked into the living room, still in his pajamas, carrying a sleepy Albus to the dining room table.

Ginny smirked, watching the mirrored faces of her husband and son. Neither were particularly morning people, and their hair stuck up everywhere after they got out of bed.

"Can you get them off to school?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," Harry nodded sleepily, sitting Albus in a chair and pouring the boy a bowl of cereal. "We'll take the motorcycle."

"Yay!" Albus called, waking up some at that.

"We won't be  _ flying _ it," Harry warned. He paused to kiss Ginny on the cheek, trudging slowly back down the hall to grab his daughter.

George apparated into the living room with a pop, and Ginny swore mildly, tossing her hairbrush at him. "Dammit, George, we've talked about this. Your apparation etiquette is awful."

"Morning Uncle George!" Albus called, perking up from his sugary breakfast.

"Morning," George mumbled, looking not entirely himself. "Ginny, has James got himself into any trouble yet at school?"

Ginny pointed her finger at him. "As if you didn't know."

"What?"

"Your nephew took a bunch of your firecracker things and scared the daylights out of a bunch of first years walking to potions class. If I hear about him getting ahold of any more Weasley Wheezes I'm holding you personally responsible."

She'd expected him to argue that point, but George said nothing. He just nodded, sitting down on their couch solemnly like he'd been threatened by someone much more imposing than his sister. Harry carried Lily to the table and got her breakfast for her, nodding once to his brother-in-law. Ginny watched George, curious about his strange reaction, but she was already running late. She kissed the top of her children's heads, then disappeared off to work.

"What brings you by early, George?" Harry asked.

"Uh, just swinging by to ask Ginny how your anniversary was. Mind if I use the restroom?"

"Of course not," Harry said, gesturing down the hall. George slipped away from them, footsteps retreating down the corridor.

"How many days until James comes home for Christmas?" Albus asked his father.

"Fifty-five days," Harry said, starting on his own cereal. "One day less than when you asked yesterday."

Albus sighed heavily, dropping his forehead onto the table.

"Hey, Halloween is coming," Harry said, pushing the boy's shoulder. "Maybe we'll take a trip to Hogsmeade. You can see the castle from there, and I don't think you've been to Honeydukes yet."

Albus smiled, and they heard George coming back. He stood in the hallway, almost out of their vision, and waved once.

"Got to be going, opening the shop soon," he called. 

"Bye, Uncle George!" Lily and Albus said in unison. Harry frowned as he heard George apparate. It was a bit odd to have him visit so early, and leave so abruptly.

"Finish up and get dressed," he said to his children, striding down the hall and going straight for his room.

Everything looked in order, but something still felt off. Someone else had been in here. He walked straight for his bedside drawer, which he always kept locked. It was open. Only one item was missing.

He blinked in disbelief, sinking down to sit on the floor. 

\-------------------------

The Great Hall buzzed with the normal chatter of it's student's morning. There was a flurry of feathers as the owls descended into the room, dropping various letters and parcels from parents and the odd copy of  _ The Daily Prophet _ . James Potter was sipping noisily on Pumpkin Juice, talking emphatically with his cousin Roxanne and Teddy Lupin, who despite being in his seventh year was often seen trying to spend time with James to help him get used to Hogwarts.

"I'm not saying it's  _ likely,"  _ James explained, "I'm just saying it's possible. There's no rule that first years can't get on the Quidditch team. With how good Mom is I've had loads of practice. If my tryout goes well enough--"

"Harry's also really good at Quidditch," Teddy cut it. "He played even younger than your mother did."

"Really?" James blinked. "It's weird to think of Dad like that. Sure he likes Quidditch, but I didn't know if he was any good at it."

A small brown owl dropped a heavy letter on top of James' toast.

"Who's that from?" Roxanne asked.

James picked it up, raising an eyebrow. "Uh, your Dad."

Roxanne tilted her head. "Excuse me? Dad sent you a letter and not me?" As if on cue another owl dropped a care package in front of Roxanne. She smiled excitedly. "That's more like it."

She dug into the parcel while James opened his letter.

_ Dear James, _

_ I hope this letter finds you in detention, or on your way to it. Thrilled to hear about your successful use of Invisible Firecrackers, let me know if you think the formula needs any work. Enclosed is a family heirloom which your father has neglected to pass on to you at the appropriate time, so I thought I'd help him along. It may look blank, but it's more helpful than you might think, especially now that you're less likely to be caught doing anything if you get my drift. Just be sure when you use it you can swear, solemnly, that you are up to no good, and remember to put it away when your mischief has been managed. _

_ Love Uncles Gred and Forge _

Roxanne set the various sweets and pranks he'd sent her on the table, reading her own brief letter. "It's just a quick 'miss you' letter. What's yours, James?"

"Uh, the same," James lied, pulling out the strange bit of folded parchment and laying it on the table in front of him.

__


End file.
